Power turns to face the door. I step onto the narrow balcony and close the glass door behind me. My back against the cold stone, my heart hammering, I listen to the sounds of the door breaking in, of voices through the glass. Orthos’s, cold and perfunctory. Power’s, bored and defiant. “Lucian Orthos, you traitorous slug, how are you?” “You stand accused by the Clover Tribunal of conspiring with the—” Power has no time for it. “Yeah, you got me. I had a plan with Antigone to rustle up her dragon in the arena.” “Why?” Ixion’s voice this time, rising an octave in confusion. “Because I’m nuts for
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